


Layne

by MarlonKruizinga



Series: Layne [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Blood, Blood and Gore, Dark, Edwardian Period, Gen, Manga & Anime, Steam Noir, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarlonKruizinga/pseuds/MarlonKruizinga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Layne is a city that seems normal on the surface. But beneath this surface is a rotten core, sins of the past eager to make themselves known again. Harry Wrights is the first to get pulled into this world of shadows, as a serial killer named The Doctor captures him, wanting to strike a deal. The events that follow will change the city forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Doctor

"Ah, you've awoken. Well then, shall we get down to business?" Harry Wrights opened his eyes. 

Standing in front of him was a tall, thin man wearing a white blouse, black trousers with suspenders, and a strange white mask, with eye-holes that showed nothing but an impenetrable darkness. 

Feeling as though he had awoken in his own personal hell, he jumped up. Or at least, he tried to. He realised he was tied down to a steel chair that was attached to the floor. The man touched his chin with his smooth, fancy - looking glove. 

"You are distressed, I suppose. Would you fancy a sigar?" 

"Aint that a little pricy on your end?" Harry realised he could talk and, as he always did when he was frightened, he approached the situation nonchalantly. 

"Only the best for my guests, Mister Wrights. And don't you worry, you will only be my guest temporarily." 

"I hope that doesn't mean I will be 'taken care of'?" 

"Oh, that won't be necessary. You see, someone else is after you already." 

"What?" 

"Yes", awnsered the strange masked man, his tone changing as if he was telling a wonderous tale. "There has been a bounty placed upon your head worth no less than a seven thousend pounds. That's right! Someone is throwing away a bags of money, just to see you dead. And I am aware of at least 10 hitmen being up to the task." 

This was most definately news to Harry. He came to realise that being in this crazy man's basement might not even be that bad of a situation to be in as of right now. 

"If that's that's so, then why aint I dead yet? Don't you wanna do it?" 

"Not at all", the man seemed so strangely excited, yet he still managed to appear a right gentleman. "You see, I am a hunter of sorts." 

"A hunter?" 

"Yes! But not your regular old hunter. I do not hunt deer, or zebras. Rather, I stalk the tigers and the wolves as they sneak up on their prey, and slaughter them mercilessly. I am a Hunter of Hunters, per say." 

Still talkin' like you're telling a fairy tale, Harry thought to himself. "And who exactly might you be, sir?"

The man turned around and looked at him. At this moment Harry noticed something being off about the mask. The goggle-like visors through which the man was looking at him were built in too far apart, as if they were built in for a frog or something of the sort. 

As such, the man was always looking at him at a slight angle, which made conversing with him all the more offputting. The man did a subtle bow.

"My name is Jekyll Clifford. But the name that proceeds me, as does my reputation, is quite different. Call me: The Doctor."

"Well then, Doctor, who is this person who wants me dead so badly?"

A long silence followed.

"Actually, I'd hoped you knew that."

Harry sighed. "Let me guess, that's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. You wouldn't know anyone with the proper motives and resources?"

He thought about this for a while. Practicly everyone in the entire city could have it out for him. He was wealthy, and he'd been robbed before.   
But what use was there in paying money for his death? And who would even be able to cough up that much money? "The Doctor" stood around in the corner of the room, waiting patiently.

"There are only a few people with enough dough to put out such a hit. The only wealthy folks who know me well are Synthia Valque and Simon Trevors."

"Miss Valque is the major of the city. And who might Simon Trevors be?"

"He's a professional gambler. A damn good one too, I don't think I've ever seen him lose. But speaking of the city, are we still in Layne?"

"Indeed we are, I couldn't take you too far, now could I? The sedatives I put in your wine would only last for about two hours."

"So that's why my last memory is of crappy wine. But how did you get me out of the restaurant?"

Well as everyone was alarmed at you suddenly collapsing, I walked up in my formal attire", he gestured at the clothes he was currently wearing, "and I simply told them I was a doctor."

Harry looked at him with large eyes. "And that worked?"

The Doctor sighed. "No, so I was forced to kill everyone in the room and simply make a run for it."

Harry snickered. "You're damn lucky I wasn't acquainted to anyone there. Though you might've killed two members of the Layne Parlement."

"Everything for a good hunt."

Harry shivered. There was a spark of madness in his voice as he spoke those words.

"So what happens next?"

"Next we catch the predator, or rather the predators, with the best possible bait; it's own pray."

"That's me, aint it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"So what do you expect me to do?"

"Just go on your merry way, and I'll catch the assassins and bounty hunters as they come. Perhaps then we'll find out who put a hit out on you."

"Well then, I guess further questions would be pointless. Will you untie me then?"

"But ofcourse."

Harry was untied, then out of nowhere he was stabbed in the neck with a syringe.

\----

As he awoke, he realised he was laying in a dirty alleyway. He stood up and slowly stumbled towards the sounds of urbanisatie life that he knew so well. His muscles still tingled like they were asleep. Before he knew it he was back on the streets of Layne.

He walked around aimlessly for a few minutes, through the suburbs that covered so much of the city. Lots of houses for both lower- and middleclass citizens all had the same basic design, with the occasional fancy-looking house in between. 

Although even the expensive houses had the same few dull coulours. Harry smiled. That was at least some form of equality.

\----

The Doctor was swiftly making his way across the rooftops, expertly staying out of sight. This man he was protecting was still on his mind. Not because he was a particularly interesting fellow, but rather because of the mystery behind the bounty on his head. 

Someone of particular wealth was willingly and knowingly setting up a hunt. One which Jekyll could not resist. And that bothered him. Did this person know it would draw him out? He had made it quite apparent that assassins and the like were his major targets.   
But then, why should there be so many? A small price for one second rate bounty hunter could've been enough.

He stopped behind a large chimney and looked around him, actually considering letting this one go. 

But then he saw it; three men on three different rooftops, signing to one another, all focused on Mister Wrights who was walking amongst the masses. He couldn't help himself. He began to whisper.

"Three guns. Two pistols and a hunting rifle." He snickered. "Amatures. But organised. Identity protected very well. Grey cowls. Didn't make the mistake of wearing black. Still..."

He grabbed his rifle. For a moment he caressed it, admiring it's beauty. It was a full steel rifle, except for the hand grip, which was made of cherry wood. It gave it that almost dark red colour that was so pleasing to the eye.   
It did not have a silencer on it, because the sound of it's shots was too rhythmically perfect to hide. And nobody would survive long enough to react to it's sound.

"They are but small prey."

He took aim.

\----

Harry had decided he would walk home to his family. He'd realised that they probably expected him home by now. He'd gone out for dinner at a fancy restaurant so that his wife and son would have time to prepare a surprise party.

Ofcourse they hadn't told him that, but he couldn't have missed the signs if he tried. His son had grinned at him with such delight, it was just adorable. 

His company had earned him more money than any year before, and under partially under influence of his wife he had donated the portion they didn't need to a charity protecting   
homeless children.   
It made him feel good about himself, and the goodwill was good for business as well.

A gunshot.

Suddenly he noticed the crowd coming to a halt, and he heard screams up ahead. He rushed forward to see what was going on. He nearly jumped back at what he saw. 

A man in grey robes lay dead on the ground with a bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead, a hunting rifle lay beside him. 

A second man collapsed and fell off of one of the buildings. A lady had to jump to the side to avoid his body falling on her. Everyone stood still in terror of what would happen next. 

Then a scream came from above. Another shot was heard, but no reactionary groan of pain. A missed shot. The sound of a knife cutting through the air at a high speed. 

A head came spinning from the roof to Harry's right, spilling a whirlwind of blood that covered the nearest bystanders (The fountain of blood missed Harry, except for a small drop on his right shoe). 

The head hit a door on the other side of the street and, still concealed by a cowl, created a little puddle of crimson liquid around itself.

The crowd dispursed in panic and Harry started running towards his home, which was only a few streets away. Occasionally checking the rooftops (for as far as he could see them), his mind was racing. 

Those men had been assassins for sure. This was that Doctor's work. For the love of God, he'd made a pact with a savage maniac! What had he gotten himself into? Home, he had to get home!

He ran across the streets, bumping into welldressed gentlemen and women alike. He'd entered a wealthier part of the city, meaning he was close to home. 

Luckely, no bodies were dropping from the rooftops at the moment, neither were there any gunshots to be heard. Harry didn't slow down. He was certain that the danger had not jet subsided.

The streets he was now running across were a lot less crowded, so he did his best not to bump into any oncoming pedestrians. He noticed a man to his right turn his head towards him as he ran by. He turned around to see the man reaching into his coat. 

An assassin in disguise, as Harry quicly realised when the bloke pulled out a small gun and took aim at him. He threw himself to the ground and heard a gunshot above his head just a second later. Then another gunshot. And another. 

The initial gunshot was actually followed by a barrage of shots, clearly coming from further away. He once again heard people screaming and running around him. 

He stood up straight to see his assailant riddled with red stained bulletwoonds, laying in a position that could only have him classified as roadkill. 

He was horrified, but felt he couldn't afford to linger on that feeling. He turned around and ran.

He was almost home. Home would be safe. It had to be. That Doctor was a sick man, but he was sure as hell protecting him. If he could get home, he could stay indours and wait for this nightmare to end. 

Just the thought of being comforted by his lovely Nora and Henry brought the warm sensation of hope into his heart. He turned a few corners and finally he was there. 

The street where he lived, with it's well upkept gardens and stainless windows. It was quiet, and nobody seemed to be home in the neighbourhood. All off to work, he figured. He hadn't taken a day off for nothing.

He'd hoped to have a little rest. He now stood panting on his own doorstep, with a fierce headache. How wrongly he'd predicted his day. But perhaps now..  
He grabbed the doorknob, partially for support, and walked inside. He was home. He was safe.

"Nora, I'm home", he called out as he walked to the livingroom. He felt nervous to tell them about the situation. What should he say?   
"I hope you weren't too worried. But I'm in serious danger. We.. we can't leave the house for a while. I'm afraid it's a matter of life and death."

No response. A feeling of unease and fear crept up on him. He turned and walked into the livingroom.

Standing in the middle of the room, looking more around him than at him, was a girl wearing a mask that only covered her mouth and nose. 

His eyes widened in disbelief as he looked around the room. The floor, as well as the walls, were painted with blood. And upon further inspection, organs were spread across the floor, while some unidentifiable parts even stuck to the wall. 

Tables had been kicked over and the room was a horrible sight overall, but no trace of whole bodyparts. That is, until he looked at the girl's hands. 

One hand held a bloody machete, the other held Nora's severed head by her hair. It looked as though she was still in agony.

Harry started breathing heavily. He had a hard time even processing what was going on. The girl hadn't said anything. She looked at him, more focused now than before, with hazy blue eyes. 

Then she suddenly took off her mask, that was decorated to look like a beast-like mouth with long sharp teeth, and spoke to him.

"Are you the Hunter?"

Harry was trembling and could barely speak. "W-what... happened?" He looked for more words but was unable to find any.

"I killed Red Riding Hood, and her grandmother too." She tilted her head sideways.

"So... Are you the Huntsman then?"

"W-what... You killed them? How? How could you? Who.. are you?!"

"Me?" The girl, who couldn't be much over the age of 14, looked confused. "Isn't it obvious, good Hunter?"

Her indifference angered him. "Stop calling me that! Why did you kill my family? Just who the hell do you think you are?"

The girl simply giggled. "Who am I? Don't be so silly. I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

She threw away Nora's head and started to menacingly swing her machete around, for a few seconds losing all interest in him. When they once again made eye contact, her eyes had become fierce, filled with playful malice. 

"Now let us clash, Huntsman."

She ran across the room and took a well-aimed swing towards him. Harry tried to dodge but she hit his arm, cutting deep into his flesh. Harry screamed in pain. She giggled, then she sighed. 

"That wasn't how it usually goes. You aren't the Hunter." She raised her machete once again. 

"You don't belong in this story."

Before she could swing her machete to strike Harry down, The Doctor came crashing through one of the windows. 

The girl was temporarily distracted, but quickly jumped away as The Doctor pulled out two handguns and started unloading on her. 

She was quick. She anticipated the direction of every shot and managed to outlast The Doctor's ammunition. That's when she saw her chance, and she flung herself forward as she swung her machete at his throat.

The Doctor had little time to retaliate, but it was more than enough. He'd dropped the guns when they had run out of bullets (He'd been counting) and with his free hands he caught the blade long before it came close to killing him. Still, the sound of sharp metal cutting into flesh was audible.

Both Harry and the unknown girl were stumped as The Doctor didn't even flinch while blood dripped from his fine white gloves. 

It seemed as though for a second, the battle had been brought to a screetching halt. Then the silence was broken by the young girl's soft whispering. 

"Hunter. It is you, oh brave hunter." Her voice sounded close to euphoria. 

But Jekyll didn't awnser her. His mask showed only two dark and sinister eyes on a pale face, but behind it he was smiling. And as he threw the machete aside and grabbed the girl tightly by her throat, he was still smiling.

"You.. are.. good." He spoke slowly, with a hint of happiness in his voice. "Tell me your name."

The girl's face started turning blue. With just one hand he was nearly crushing her windpipe. Harry, who had finally overcome his pain and confusion and had gotten up, tried to get a grip on the situation.

"Let go of her, she can't breathe like that!"

The Doctor losened his grip on the girl and let her sink to the ground. Once again, she appeared to be confused. "Hunter, what are you doing? Why won't you strike me down? You know how the story goes... right?"

Jekyll was overcome by morbid curiosity. "How does it go from here then?" 

And in that moment the look of the girl, and presumably also that of Jekyll, changed. To Harry it was a disturbing state of mutual understanding. This only got worse when the girl started to speak again, her eyes looking dreamily at the ceiling. 

"You'll kill me, cut open my belly and take out Little Red Riding Hood. Her grandmother too." 

Harry came close to vomiting when he thought of the implications of those words. She couldn't have actually done that. She continued, now with her eyes closed peacefully, like she was imagining it all happening. 

"They'll live happilly ever after, and I will have played my part. Hunter, did I play it well?"

Jekyll seemed to react with the utmost respect. "You did indeed play it well. So then, may I ask the actress' name?"

She replied calmly. "There is no actress anymore, just a beaten wolf. But my name used to be Sybil. Oh Hunter, would you do me one favor?"

"What would that be?"

"When you finish me, would you be so kind as to strike my heart."

"Very well." Jekyll saw in this the opportunity for a great death. Something to be remembered. 

He pulled his sword. His most adored weapon of all. Short, sharp, and black as the night. He brought it to Sybil's heart, and she prepared for her end.

But at that moment all the theatrics were shattered. Multiple police officers came storming into the room and held them all at gunpoint.

Harry felt like a nightmare had just come to an end. The girl began to cry. "No.. nonono... that's not how it ends."

Jekyll didn't even move. His actual face would've revealed nothing more than his mask did. But he was seething with rage. His hunt was ruined. Someone was going to pay.


	2. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's life has been shattered. He's still dealing with the aftermath of the horrors he has seen. Meanwhile, The Doctor and Major Valque have some old business to talk about. 
> 
> And can love actually bloom in this city?

Harry sat in a highly surveillanced room at the police station. It was one of 15 "headquarters" scattered throughout Layne. He wondered how far from home he was exactly. He would always keep himself busy with pointless questions when the situation was too much for him. 

He asked the policeman guarding his "cell"; "What district is this?"

The man turned his head and Harry noticed that he was more of a smoothfaced young man than the scruffy cop he'd expected. 

"We're in district 7 sir; Heaven's Gate. I'd like to personally apologize for your discomfort mister Wrights, especially after what you've been through, but it's for your own safety that we've taken you into custody."

"I suppose it's because of the bounty on my head, isn't it?" Harry was desperately trying not to think about his family, for the sake of his sanity. 

He was still in that period before the ultimate realisation. 

"I must say I'm honestly quite grateful for your protection, so do not apologize."

"Where are the Doctor and that girl?"  
Harry had been seperated from them when they were escorted into the police station.

"They've been taken for interrogation, as their innocence isn't quite as clear as yours. Where exactly they are, I don't know. I suggest you get some shut-eye Mister Wrights. I have no doubt it's been a nerve wracking day."

He let himself fall onto the small bed that had been set up for him, and escaped, for just a short while, into a serene slumber. For now, he could be safe.

\----

Jekyll was escorted by three police officers. Two of them walked beside him, one walked behind him with a gun pointed at his back. 

"May I inquire as to where you are taking me?", he asked politely, but with clear mockery and contempt. 

The men didn't answer immediately. They harshly pushed him forward, as they were understandably in a hurry. They'd only just captured him. 

He'd been led into a police bus, rushed to a building he knew all too well, and he actually also knew very well where they were taking him. Finally, one of the men gave the answer Jekyll expected. 

"To the office of Mayor Valque." 

Though invisible to the officers because of his mask, which they hadn't even tried to take off yet, Jekyll grinned. It wasn't a very cheerful grin, it was one brought forth by pure anger and frustration. 

"Well, what an absolute honor, gentlemen! Say, you wouldn't happen to know who directed the police force towards me in the first place, would you?"

No answer. Protocol ofcourse; Don't talk to criminals, blah blah... He had to watch himself, he was beginning to lose his composure. 

They led him through a few hallways with wooden walls with a wide array of paintings and portraits on them, until they finally went through a large door. 

There, sitting behind her desk and focusing on writing what he assumed to be letter on her typewriter, was Synthia Valque; Mayor of Layne. She looked up to see who'd just barged into her office and interrupted her work. She saw Jekyll, or at least she saw "The Doctor". 

Her face turned to utter disgust and she stood up straight, knocking over her own chair in the process. 

"What is the meaning of this?", she asked furiously. 

The cops took a step back, but Jekyll stepped forward. Unfortunately for him, he was handcuffed. Dispite this, Valque grabbed a gun from her desk and pointed it right to his chest. "Don't move." The words came slowly, and were clearly an order, not a plea. One of the officers spoke up. 

"Ma'm, we caught this man along with another man and a younger girl on the scene of a murder. We are almost convinced of the other man's innocence, as the victims were his family and he'd suffered a wound himself."

"Who is that man?", she asked, her eyes still fixed on Jekyll. 

"Harry Wrights, ma'm. His wife and child were murdered in his house. The girl involved was clearly delusional, and is the main suspect of the crime, along with this man here. The girl is being handled by psychiatrists right now, and we brought him here because he has been wanted for a long time."

"Very well done gentlemen, you may leave. I can handle this on my own. But be sure to send the head of the police department this was as soon as possible."

"Will do, ma'm."

The police officers walked off and the door was closed behind them. The Major still had her gun pointed straight at Jekyll. A long, uncomfortable silence followed. 

"You're getting old, Synthia."

Jekyll had noticed the grey hairs that infiltrated her otherwise lucious brown hair, as well as the lines that forecast the wrinkles. 

She didn't seem to care about his remark. 

"You know, I'd hoped I'd never have to see you again. I always prayed to God that they would just find you dead some day."

"But that would be too simple for you. I'm the skeleton in your closet, that which you cannot undo."

"I'm about to set right what I did wrong, Jekyll."

Jekyll laughed. It was lowpitched, and had such magnitude that it could change the rythm of one's heartbeat.  
He fearlessly walked forward and let the gun enter one of the eye-holes of his mask. 

"I'm not quite ready to die yet. I will continue hunting until my body is reduced to nothing by the perpetual combination of time and sin."

"You're mad." She pressed the gun against his left eye. 

"Then you are mad as well. I have never left a sane person behind me on my path. I am contagiously wicked, as they say."

At that moment the door opened and someone came rushing in. Even in his haste, he entered graciously. Blond hair, blue eyes and a handsome face. 

His casual smile transformed into a stern and serious look as he noticed the situation in front of him. He pulled out his own gun and pointed it at Jekyll, who had turned around. 

"Is this man threatening you, Miss Valque?"

"No, but keep your gun locked onto him anyways. I presume you know who this is, Dorian."

"The Doctor, the most dangerous individual in Layne. Over 110 confirmed homicides."

"117", Jekyll corrected him. "And who might you be?"

"Dorian Stitch, head of the police department, and overseer of all police districts."

"Ah, Stitch. Does that mean you're the sole heir to the fortune of the Stitch family?"

"Indeed. Miss Valque, what should I do with him?" Dorian started circling around Jekyll with his gun, which he held with his right hand, still pointed at him.

"I'd like to kill him on the spot, but he needs an interrogation and he has the right to a fair trial. Why don't you take him for interrogation", she said in a bitter tone. "I'm sure he'll hang in no time."

"As you wish, ma'm." Dorian gestured Jekyll out the door. "Before I go, the girl that we arrested is being taken to the Asylum on the edge of the city. She's been deemed mentally unstable, unable to tell right from wrong."

"Very well, but make sure she is guarded. She should not be underestimated. She's..." 

"A Violet." Dorian added.

"Yes. Now go. And organize a celebration for this catch. The citizens should know as soon as possible."

Jekyll heard the door close behind him. His anger had subsided. "Synthia...", he spoke silently. "How is it you always seem to charm me?"

\----

Sybil sat in her room. It was completely white, without any chairs or tables, or anything for that matter. She'd been put in a straitjacket. "What have I done wrong?" No answer. 

A doctor of the Layne Asylum watched her through a small window on the left side of the room. She didn't seem distressed in any way. She had this woozy expression that never seemed to fade. 

She could hear her asking the same question, over and over again. And even her voice remained completely calm.

"What have I done wrong? I behaved as I should have. I played my part perfectly. I was the Big Bad Wolf. But you can let me go now. I swear, I'll be a good girl. I'll play the good girl just for you."

Harry felt the hand of someone trying to wake him. He left the dreamland where he'd found temporary solitude. He looked in the face of the officer that had been guarding him. 

"Mister Wrights, you can leave the cell. The girl we caught confessed to the murders, so the investigation has ended. Furthermore, you've been put under police protection. I'll be escorting you to the party."

"The party?" Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Yes, you are invited to a party organised by the head of the police department; Dorian Stitch."

"That name sounds vaguely familiar. Isn't that family very rich?"

"Yes sir, but Mister Stitch is the last of his bloodline. He's often said that he wanted to expand his legacy beyond his wealth. You could meet him at the party. Miss Valque will be there as well, and she has already agreed to take you in as long as your house is being cleaned."

"Cleaned?" Suddenly, Harry felt it hit him like a builder. 

The realisation of his loss, the macabre scene that had unfolded in his own home. He vomited at the memory of his wife's severed head. His dear son hadn't even been identifiable, reduced to a stain on the wall. 

The policeman helped him up. He cleaned up, put on fresh clothes and followed the officer to his car. He decided he would attend the party, if only to try and drown out his sadness. 

\----

"Bloss, we should discuss the items that were taken from your subject."

She looked away from the girl, who's name she'd been told was Sybil. She now sat silently, looking at the white ceiling. 

"I'm sorry Doctor Stein", she answered hastily, "I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"

Stein had long black hairs that went everywhere and never looked all too clean. He wore a labcoat over his brown sweater, and his glasses wobbled on his nose. 

"You've taken this girl under your wing quite quickly, but I'm worried about her mental condition."

"How so?" She asked.

Stein was nonchalant as always, even when discussing a serious matter. He tilted his head, almost letting his glasses fall off his nose. 

"She was wearing a victorian-style top and skirt and carried a machete that was completely covered in blood. Not to forget, the mask she had with her." 

Stein held up the mask. It could be used to cover the nose and mouth, was made of steel and leather. It had been decorated to look like a large mouth with long, sharp teeth. 

"When she was brought in, she demanded we'd give it back to her."

"She's calmed down since then." She felt she had to put on a serious face. "Stein, you are not taking her for your therapy sessions." 

"No problem, Erica. I just wanted to warn you." He promptly turned around and walked away.

"Who does he think he is", she whispered to herself. She continued her writing.

Erica Blossom  
Subject: Sybil (last name unknown)  
Notes:  
Possible multiple personality disorder  
Calm, collected, pre-occupied  
Delusional to a high extent

Then, Sybil began to sing. Her voice highpitched, and sweet.

She didn't sing with words. The sounds brought forth from Sybil's mouth was romantic and hopeful, nearly bringing Erica to tears. 

Sybil fell silent. Without her singing echoing through the room, everything suddenly went unbearably still. Erica had her face pressed against the little window. Then Sybil buried her face in her own lap, shrinking into a ball and visibly shaking. 

She cried, loudly. It was the kind of crying that was always somehow related to death, melancholic and heartbreaking. 

Erica couldn't bear it, and started banging her fists against the glass. She wanted to hold her, and comfort her. Sybil fel over and gradually quieted down. Just sudden, highpitched breaths interrupted the the new found silence.

Erica added a final note, and then left Sybil alone.

Rapid moodswings

"Poor little girl..."

\----

Harry arrived at a mansion, somewhere around the middle of the city. The cop dropped him off, assuring him that there was plenty of police surveillance inside and outside the building. 

Harry walked to the metal gate, leading to the garden and a stone walkway which in turn led to the door of the mansion. To the side, on the wall of the buidling, a silver plate ingraved with the family name; Stitch. 

Harry rang the bell, and only seconds later was greeted by a maid who accepted his coat, and a butler who led him to the ballroom. 

He entered the ballroom, and to his surprise he saw Synthia. It looked as though something was troubling her. When she noticed him looking at her, she flinched, like he startled her. 

He walked up to her and shook her hand. 

"Hello, Harry. I'm glad to see you're well. I'm very sorry about your loss." 

Her eyes were shifting across the room and back. She looked him in the eyes again. 

"Are you alright?" She asked. 

"Are you?"

"Not entirely, I'm afraid. But don't worry about me. I want to make sure this whole ordeal hasn't hit you too hard."

"Ordeal!?", he exclaimed, louder than he should've. Some people around them gave him an agitated look. 

He moved closer to her and spoke with a lower volume. 

"Synthia, I'm trying desperately to keep it out of my head. It's... a tragedy too large to bear." It cost him considerable effort to utter say that, to admit to her and himself the reality and cruelty of what had happened. 

"Excuse me, Mister Wrights?"

Harry turned around and saw a young man with blonde hair, wearing a fancy black suit. A few golden insignia glistened on his chest. "I'm Dorian Stitch, the host of this little celebration."

"You're the Overseer of Layne's police districts, right?"

"Yes I am." Dorian shook his hand. 

"Sir, I must say; my deepest condolences for your loss. I promise I will improve police patrols around the city, so this may never happen again. I hope you can forgive the sorry state which this ordeal has shown my districts are in."

"Don't be so hard on yourself Dorian", said Synthia, moving herself next to Harry. "The police corps already operates at utmost efficienty. It's a miracle your officers arrived at the scene as fast as they did."

"Perhaps", said Dorian, looking at the ceiling. Then he sneakily revealed a gun from the inside of his suit. He handed it to Harry.  
"I at least want you to be safe from now on, Mister Wrights."

Harry was stumped, but accepted the gun after exchanging eye contact with Synthia. She simply nodded. 

"Please, call me Harry."

Dorian cracked a friendly smile. 

"Very well, Harry. But that means you call me Dorian from now on, alright?"

Harry did his best to smile back. "Yeah, alright." 

He looked around. He was surrounded by about a hundred people. All of them living the kind of life he'd lost. 

\----

A bell rang throughout the Asylum. Diner time. There were just 5 patients in the room, each at their own table, with their own supervisors. 

"Mommy, why are you feeding me? I can eat on my own you know."

"Please stop calling me that, Sybil. Call me Erica." 

Momentarily, Sybil looked distraught. 

"Miss Erica, can't you let me out of this weird coat? It's horribly uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry Sybil, but those are just the rules. You are considered too dangerous."

Sybil frowned. "But I'm not dangerous... Am I?"

"Well- Sybil... Do you remember what you did?" Erica wanted to chose her words as carefully as possible. 

Sybil's eyes widened slightly. She smiled.

"Oh that! But Mo- Miss Erica, that wasn't me. It was the Big Bad Wolf."

Delusional to a high extent

\----

Dorian was walking around the ballroom, looking for a friend. When he found her, she was facing away from him. He tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, and smiled upon seeing him. 

"Gloria", he began jokingly, "It's a miracle. You're actually wearing a dress! Are you feeling alright?"

She laughed, showing off two rows of pearly white teeth. She had short brown hair and blue eyes, with a subtle tint of green. 

"Well, Dorian, we can't all afford to have you're fashion standards. I mean, how much did that suit alone cost you?"

"Nothing actually, it was my dad's."  
The smile on her face faded. 

"Oh... I didn't mean to-"

"Gloria, please. I appreciate your compassion, but I've moved past this. Cheer up will you?" 

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just don't want to hurt your feelings."

"Let's just forget about it." He stuck out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

"Very well", she answered, ironically striking a ladylike pose. "But I'll be the one to lead."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

They started to dance in the middle of the ballroom, about halfway through a song. Three violins, perfectly in unison, played a wonderfully dramatic melody, led by an ostinato cello. 

She led their dance well, with a firm but caring grip. They made long and drawn out movements, as did the music. He was proud of both himself and her. She was wonderful. 

The song came to a slow end, with the last note still echoing throughout the ballroom. She pulled him closer. 

"I want you to be mine." She looked him straight in the eyes. 

"I can't, Gloria. Not just yet."

Suddenly, the silence was broken. A gunshot. The crowd quickly moved away from the source of the noise. A collective gasp went through the room. Harry Wrights laid dead on the floor. Dorian's gun was in his hand, still smoking. 

"No!"

Synthia Valque ran towards Harry's body. She kneeled down next to him.  
"It went straight through his head. He's gone."

"I gave him that gun. It's my fault." Dorian took a step back. 

Gloria grabbed him by the arm. "Dorian, no."

"I have to... I'm sorry."  
Dorian ran out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Synthia ran after him, but Gloria stopped her, pulling her back by her collar. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She looked at Gloria in confused anger.

"It's no use. We'll just have to wait."

"How would you know that? I'm his boss"

"And I'm his friend. I've known Dorian for a long time now. And sometimes, he just.. disappears."

"Then when will he come back?"

"No idea. Could be weeks, or months."

Synthia nodded. She turned back around, and looked at Harry. Gloria stood next to her. 

"Was he your friend?"

"I guess you could say that."

\----

Two weeks passed. The party had been shut down immediately after Wrights' suicide. Everyone had left in shock. His funeral came two days later and was attended by many, but Gloria wasn't invited, nor had she expected to be. 

She had other things on her mind. Dorian had shut himself in his home. The gates leading to the garden, which was still as green as ever thanks to Dorian's gardener, were closed. So they had been for two weeks now. 

She rang the bell next to the gate. Nothing, as per usual. She'd already done this multiple times during these two weeks. She knew better, yet this time she didn't feel like giving up.

She rang the bell again. No response. Not even a small ripple went through the red, closed curtains. She rang again. Nothing. 

"Goddamnit Dorian, I'm not giving up on you!" She called out as loud as possible. 

There was no one else nearby anyway. The houses to the left and the right of the mansion had been bought and demolished a long time ago, in order to expand the garden. 

She remembered playing with him there, especially the garden behind the mansion. There was a gigantic weeping willow, which had probably been made larger in her memories, and a pond with frogs and fish in it. 

"Dorian, why? Why do you shut me out like this? I thought you loved me."

The door finally opened slightly.  
"Gloria, please."

"No Dorian, stop it with that. I can't take this anymore. You're with me through the good times, but whenever things get hard you just leave me behind."

The door opened further. She could see his face. He was pale, and he had tremendous bags under his eyes. 

"You don't understand. I don't want you to see me like this."

She suddenly felt nauseous. Dorian stepped out of the house. He looked weak, half-dead even. 

But worst of all, was the stitched up scar going from the left side of his mouth, all across his left cheek. It was stained red. It looked on his pale skin, like a red tint in a black and white movie. 

"Dorian, what did you do?"

Dorian turned around. 

"Dorian, if you walk away again... I'll.."  
She stopped. She didn't know what she would do. 

The door closed. He'd barely looked her in the eyes. What had she seen in his face? Was that shame, self-loathing? Her clenched fists loosened. 

Why? Why was he doing this?  
How? How would she get through to him. Or would she really have to let go... 

A black car came driving by, and stopped right beside her. The window opened, to show Mayor Valque's face looking at the house, then at Gloria. 

"He's not coming out, is he?"

Gloria shook her head. What now? Forget about him? Just hope that the hole he leaves will be filled again? 

"Gloria Sophia, right? Get in."

She looked at Valque, who'd already opened the door to the back seet. 

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, get in the car. I need to ask you some questions."

Gloria raised an eyebrow. "So? I'm not just gonna get in your car. I'll come by your office tomorrow if you need me."

Valque's eyes narrowed. "Get in now or the taxes on your steel mill will be due earlier."

"Son of a-" Gloria sighed. "Fine."  
She stepped in the car, and the two drove off to the Mayor's Office. 

\----

"Miss Erica, could you tell me about the other people here?"

It was about 4 o'clock at the Layne Juvenile Asylum, and Erica was alone with Sybil, who was still in her straitjacket. 

"You mean the other patients?"

"Yes. Are they nice people? Are they mean, or just misunderstood?"

"I'm afraid there's no easy answer to that, dear. Some of these people have done very bad things. But then again, they all have been found not accountable for their actions."

"Are you saying they're mad?"

"To put it bluntly, yes. But I think they are really victims themselves. Think of what they might have become if they didn't have a mental illness."

Sybil turned her eyes to look straight at Erica, who was sitting next to her. 

"You see their madness as a sickness, a curse. But Miss Erica, would they really be themselves without it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you ever heard the tale of the Beast with no hide?"

Erica raised an eyebrow.  
"No, is it one of your fairy tales?"

"My favorite." Sybil gave her the sort of smile you give a child who asks a silly question. 

"You see, once their was a terrible beast. It broke into towns and slaughtered everything in sight. But the beast, throughout the years, became very lonely. It started to pull ou it's own hair. Eventually, it was so close to being hairless, that it looked quite like a human.  
The beast went into town, but no one ran from him. He started changing. He spoke with people, made friends, and eventually got married. His wife bore one daughter. He got a humble job, and lived like any normal man. But one morning, his beloved daughter was gone, as well as his wife. He alerted the authorities, and his wife was found some time later; dead and torn to shreds. The town guards reported to have seen a small furred creature running away from the corpse as they approached. It was then, that the man knew what had happened. His daughter had become a beast in his place."

"That's just... awful!"

"It is the truth, Miss Erica. The man who was once a beast had become a completely different person, yet a beast needed to exist.  
It is a simple lesson; evil has its place in this world, and it is best to accept your role, so that no one else has to."

"But that's not a lesson, it's a tragedy."  
Erica stood up and readied herself to leave Sybil's cell.

Sybil's gaze was cold and serious.  
"Who ever said that life wasn't tragic?"

"Sybil, this is sounding like very bad progress. If you ever want to get out of here-"

"I don't want to get out of here", Sybil said bitterly. "I belong here."

Erica didn't say anything. She simply walked out and locked the door behind her. 

Sybil rested her face on her knees. It was uncomfortable, but she wanted to change her position. She felt lonely. 16. She was 16 years old. She'd kept count, year after year, day after day.

Completely disconnented from a world she'd never really called home, she thought about Miss Erica and this place that had become her prison. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the first place she'd call home. 

\----

It took them about half an hour to drive from the Stitch Mansion to the Mayor's Office. Gloria had to admit she was a little surprised that Valque didn't have a chauffeur. It also surprised her how the Mayor herself was giving the speedlimit a proverbial slap in the face. 

The car came to a screeching halt, and without having spoken a word the entire way, Valque gestured her to follow her inside. She seemed to be getting more stressed by the second, as she took large steps down the entrance hallway. 

Up the stairs and down the hall towards her room. Gloria swore that she heard Valque mutter something unsavory about the distantce between her room and the entrance. 

They entered the room. Valque locked the door behind them and sat down behind her desk. She gasped as she leaned back in her chair, clearly grateful to finally unwind a bit. Gloria sat down on the other side of the desk. 

"Gloria, I need you to tell me about your history with Dorian", Valque said, leaning forward, arms on the desk. 

"Have you spoken to him lately?"

"No, I haven't. He doesn't let any of my personnel enter his house, and he refuses to pick up his phone. But that's not the worst of what's going on right now."

"What do you mean by that? I thought you wanted me to talk about Dorian?"

"I do, but it's for a wholly different reason." 

A silence followed, as Valque tried to figure out how to best explain the situation. She began.

"Dorian knows of a top-secret project that this government set up about twentyfive years ago.  
The project was only fully retired four years ago. No one but me and a select few other higher-ups know about the project. Or at least nobody else knows all about it."

"And this project is...?"

"The Red Guard Project. A program that was meant to make the city safer, by training an army of elite agents that would protect the city and the law at any cost."

"And how exactly did that training work?"

Valque sighed, clearly displeased at having to talk about this.

"The participants were selected from orphanages, the slums or very poor families.  
They had to be as young as possible, and so the city provided a proper upbringing for them, in exchange for their participation."

"You used children?" Gloria shot the Mayor a look of disgust. 

"Yes, in our desperation we used children. Crime rates were at an all time high twentyfive years ago, and something had to be done. At that time I wasn't in charge yet, so it wasn't my decision."

"But you could've stopped it! You were raising children to be cold blooded killers, and you were okay with that?"

"I wasn't okay with it", Valque retaliated. "But by the time I was elected as Mayor, the Red Guard Project had become an endless cycle." 

"And how did that happen?"

"Violets."

Before Gloria could ask anything else, the phone on Valque's desk rang. She put it on speaker. A man started talking. 

"Miss Valque, we've sighted the Doctor near the Abdon Prison."

Valque's eyes flashed towards the source of the voice. "What?"

"Ma'm, we will persue hi-"

"No, hold it just a second! That's impossible. He was captured two weeks ago."

"Uhm, ma'm... have you not been told about his escape? Overseer Stitch notified all officers. Did he not notify the government officials?"

A pained expression shot across Valque's face. She and Gloria looked at eachother, with mutual understanding. 

That was the real reason Dorian had cut off all communication. Gloria realised that that was also probably why had been punishing himself. He couldn't handle failure. 

Valque was first to recompose herself. "Officer, where are you now? With how many are you."

"We've entered the Abdon Prison and alerted the guards. I have two other senior officers with me, and seven junior officers."

"Stick together. I repeat: stick together. Do not split up under any circumstances."

"Copy that."

Valque was standing up by now, leaning over the black call receiver.  
For some time the police officer just kept reporting "no sign of the target".

Then he suddenly started to whisper. 

"The guards told us they heard sounds coming from an empty prison block; Block H. Seems there were no guards actually assigned to that area. We're now moving into Block H."

"Is your group still complete?"

"Yes, all ten are still here ma'm. Still no sign of the- Wait."

"What is it?" 

There was the sound of murmuring between the cops. Gloria also moved closer towards the little speaker, in fearful anticipation. 

"The lights just went out. Should we investigate?"

"Run."

"What?"

"I said run, you idiot! It's a tra-"

Gunshots. Screaming. They could clearly hear the sound of something heavy falling on the floor. For around half a minute, gunfire seemed to come from all directions, and grunts of pain followed one another closely.

The gunshots and the screaming decreased. A few panicking officers, clearly younger than the one that had been on the phone, could still be heard. They were hard to understand, just a little too far away, but they were clearly out of bullets. 

Another gunshot, this one clearly from far away. In reaction to another loud "bump" to the floor, an officer screamed. Footsteps, fast, advancing. The next sound Gloria couldn't really describe in a non-offensive way. It was someone chocking on his own blood.  
The sound of a heavy fall indicated death. Silence. Not in the Mayor's Office, nor in Block H was there any sound. 

Then a voice came through the speaker again, one that seemed to be very glad to break the silence, but also hesitant to. 

"Synthia?"

Valque did not react immediately. She had this gloomy, misty eyed look to her, as if reminiscing about something in the past.  
And somehow Gloria felt like she was the first to ever see her like this. She finally answered. 

"Yes, Jekyll."

"Synthia." The relief in his voice was unmistakable. "I've been thinking about you. Are you alone?"

Synthia looked up at Gloria, who nodded heavily in response. 

"Yes, Jekyll, I'm alone."

"I'm very sorry about the way I behaved two weeks ago. It was just an act, honestly. I must admit I was angry but..."

He fell silent, but he was breathing heavily.  
Gloria listened carefully. It's like he's nervous...

Valque seemed unmoved by the whole situation. "Jekyll?"

A short silence in which Jekyll presumably collected himself, followed by a short and simple "Yes?".

"Are you on pain killers?"

Jekyll started laughing, softly and relatively high pitched for a man. "I'm afraid so. I've been taking some serious damage lately. Now that you mention it; I didn't know you'd reinstated the Red Guard."

Gloria looked Valque in the eyes, trying to get an explaination. She understood the look in Gloria's eyes.  
She sighed again, her head resting on her left hand. 

"No, it wasn't me who did so." She looked at Gloria. "It was Overseer Stitch." 

"I see. Synthia, I have to go. I still have business here, and you've held me up for long enough." 

"Jekyll, what are you going to do?"

"..."

"Jekyll?!"

The only sound they got back was the barely hearable static on the phone line. 

Gloria waited a few seconds, making sure she could speak up again.

"Why didn't you tell me what Dorian did?"

Valque urged her to wait, quickly pushing several buttons and calling a different number. 

"Hello, Heaven's Gate police headquarters here. What can I do for you?"

"Mayor Valque here, put the head of your department on the phone right now!"

"Mister Stitch hasn't been around for two weeks ma'm."

Valque seemed to have forgotten for a second that Dorian was both Overseer of all districts, and head of district 7; Heaven's Gate. 

"Goddamnit, that's right. Put on his temporary replacement, then."

After about half a minute, which felt a lot longer in Valque's quiet office, a woman came on the phone.

"Meryl Steel, replacement head of Heaven's Gate."

"The Doctor has been found breaking into Abdon Prison, in district 5. He's killed ten police officers already. You need to mobilise a task force right now and send them there.  
Call district 6 and 5 and tell them to do the same. Move out as quickly as you can!"

Before an answer could be given Valque, quite aggressively, hung up and turned her attention back to Gloria. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry, Gloria. Come again?"

"Why didn't you tell me that Dorian reinstated the Red.. whatever?"

"I was getting to that. The situation is just very hectic right now, as you may have realised. But yes; the reason I want to know more about Dorian, and the reason I brought you here, is that the Red Guard is on the loose and out of my control."

"But how does Dorian know of it?"

"Well, he became Overseer ten years ago, at age 16. His father was Overseer before him, and he basicly inherited the position.  
From that moment forward he was involved in the project, since he was in control of the city's safety. This means he was involved with the project for six years."

Gloria was grinding her teeth against eachother this point. 

"You best not have had anything to do with giving him that position. It nearly tore him apart! I started seeing him less and less.  
His work and his responsabilities took away a part of him that I haven't seen since. It took away his excitement, his..."

Gloria could feel tears coming to her eyes. She swallowed. "You took away his happiness."

"I'm sorry, Gloria, but it wasn't my decision. His father gave him the position in his will. When he died and Dorian was of the required age, there was nothing I could do." She moved forward, leaning over her desk. "But I hope we can help Dorian now. So I need you to tell me about his past, and how he was before he became Overseer."

"Alright." Gloria hoped that her emotions wouldn't affect her while trying to speak. 

"I was orphaned at a young age. My mother and father had owned a steelmill, but I was only eight at the time, not able to own it by myself.  
That's when I was adopted by the Stitch family. They had lost their daughter, and thought that their son needed a friend. Dorian was two years older than me." Gloria smiled. "I can still remember the day we first met, in his parents' mansion."

\----

Sixteen years ago:

Gloria held the hand of a man in a black suit, who worked at the mansion. She'd just arrived, and she would meet her new parents shortly. 

They entered the house and the man led her to the living room. It was very large, almost like a room in a victorian palace. The walls and ceiling were white, as if they were made of marble, and were filled with paintings of ladies in dresses and men in suits of armor. 

There were no windows in this room, but it was well lit with candles on the walls, as well as a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which reflected the light of its own candles with its crystal adornments. 

In the middle of the room, under the chandelier, stood a large round table. It was also finely decorated with painted flowers on the far reaches of it, and a garden with a naked man and woman towards the middle. 

Three people sat at this table. The one closest to the entrance of the room, a woman with long blond hair, noticed their presence first and stood up. 

She walked towards Gloria and bent over in front of her, bringing their faces on the same height. 

"Hello, Gloria. My name is Cecilia. Cecilia Stitch."

Gloria looked at her. She was pretty, thin and tall, and wore a red dress. Her clear blue eyes clearly wanted to give her comfort, but served to do the opposite. She kept silent. 

The man that had been sitting at the table now also got up and came to stand behind the woman. 

"Cecilia, give her a little space. She's never seen us before."

"T-thank you sir", Gloria muttered. 

"Call me Christopher, dear."

He had short brown hair, and a smile that looked more genuine than that of his wife. Gloria smiled back at him, feeling a bit more comfortable already.

Cecilia turned around and gestured the last person at the table, a young boy with blond hair, to come over.

"Dorian, come and meet your new sister." 

He walked over to Gloria, and they briefly looked eachother over. They were about the same height, about the same age, but the boy's eyes seemed to tell a longer story. 

His facial expression could be described as one of either wisdom or arrogance, although not much of this occured to Gloria at the time. 

She was the first to speak. "Hi Dorian, I'm Gloria Sophia." She threw him a smile that was only partially forced. 

Dorian did not smile back. He averted his gaze, his eyes moving to the corner of their sockets. He wore a white blouse, blue silk pants, and polished black shoes. 

Gloria wore a purple dress that was torn at the bottom from her many misadventures in the yard of her orphanage. 

"You can leave, James", Christopher told his employee, who nodded and walked out the door, leaving the four of them alone. 

Dorian walked away, not looking Gloria in the eyes. 

"Come, Gloria. We'll show you your room."

Days passed. Gloria had to practice various mannerisms in order to fit in with the higher society. She learned table-manners, was given new clothes and was taught how to dance. 

Dorian led her through the steps of the Waltz, uninterested. He looked at their feet, occasionally mumbling corrections. Gloria wondered if he felt alright. 

Christopher insisted that the two of them would play in the back yard after dancing practice. Gloria was happy to do so, as the yard of her new family was much larger and filled with plant life than that of her orphanage.

She ran outside. Dorian followed her at a more casual pace. Gloria started to run through the grass with bare feet, but again Dorian was simply walking around, looking at the sky, lost in thought. Gloria sighed. 

"Dorian", she whined. "Smile, will you?" Then she added, more softly, shy even: "You're such a grump."

He didn't seem too bothered, barely even looking in her direction. Finally, Gloria was fed up. She pulled Dorian towards her, which clearly took him by surprise, and looked him in his vacant blue eyes. 

"What do I have to do", she said, grinning, "to make you smile?" 

He thought about this, then pointed to the large weeping willow at the outter reaches of the yard. "Climb that tree."

Then, when Gloria failed to react properly, he repeated; "Climb to the top of that tree, and I'll smile for you." 

Gloria faltered. She looked at the tree, then back at Dorian. She nodded at him, then she ran towards the tree. She pulled herself up by the hanging branches of the willow, eventually reaching the place where one of the branches sprouted from the tree.

From this point she could just barely stand up straight, but she wasn't quite at the top yet. She looked down at Dorian. He looked back at her, with a cold and calculating gaze. Was he judging her, or guessing her chances? 

She now couldn't use any branches for climbing anymore, since they either hung too high or were too thin and weak. She stood on top of the edge of a branch, but wasn't able to reach another.  
She tried grabbing at the tree itself, but couldn't get a grip. Then she suddenly knew what to do. 

She dug her nails into the cracks between the bark, then used her feet to get any additional support she could find. Slowly, she moved upward, pulling herself along the tree. 

On the final stretch she broke one or two nails, but at the time it didn't bother her too much. When she got to the top, she waved down at Dorian, sticking out her tongue. She laughed as she decended back down. 

But when she was about halfway down, her foot missed the branch she wanted to stand on. She ripped off pieces of bark when she lost grip of the tree, and fell. 

Only she did not suffer a fall onto the grass (the fall would've probably caused serious bruises, or even broken bones). Instead she landed in the arms of Dorian, who was in turn pushed to the ground by the force of her falling body. Gloria was dazed for a few seconds, blinking quickly and trying to focus her vision on something. 

When she had finally recovered from the fall, she looked in the face of Dorian, hovering over her, smiling. And she returned the favor, before getting up to hug him. 

\----

Synthia had been waiting patiently, listening. "But Gloria, when I asked you before about your friendship, you were reluctant to even call it one."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess you could say that? You didn't sound too convinced."

Gloria bit her lip. "Our relationship is... more... complicated by now."

"But still on good terms?"

"Yes. But listen, Miss Valque, I should be heading home. I still need to pay my employees at the steelmill for the month." 

It had already gotten dark outside. It was around 7 o'clock.

"Very well. I hope you don't mind going back on your own? I have to stay here in case the situation at Abdon changes."

"That's fine. I'll take a cab."

Gloria walked towards the door. After opening it, she turned around. "One more thing. If Dorian contacts you or comes back to work or.... anything, let me know."

\----

Dorian stood in front of his bathroom mirror, hovering above the sink. Drool dripping from his lips, he looked down at his own vomit. 

He felt a burning pain around his eyes, and in his throat. Was he crying? He couldn't tell. He forced his fingers back down his throat. 

"Again." 

He looked in the mirror. The scar, from the corner of his mouth, across the cheek. These two halves of his face were held together only by the copper stitches. The best ones, his doctor had insisted. 

Panic. A static noise, rising in volume. A crescendo of fear. He covered his ears, but the sound came from inside his head. "The pain of being human shows itself in everything you do" 

"SHUT UP!" 

The phone rang. Dorian ran to his desk and answered it, hoping to drown out the persistant noise. 

"Mister Stitch, we've got Abdon Prison in sight. A distance of 300 meters, like you asked."

It took Dorian time catch his breath. Too long. "Is the police there yet?"

"Yeah. They've surrounded the place. No way of getting in or out."

"Except for straight through. So that's only a matter of time... Stay on your posts, no movement until I say so. Understood?"

"Yes sir. And sir?"

"Yes."

"On behalf of the Red Guard, I'd like to thank you for your trust."

"Don't dissapoint me, and the city will celebrate you as heroes. That I promise." Dorian hung up. The utter silence seeped through the walls, embracing him. 

He felt his body, thin, but muscled, servicable. He reminded himself to exercise again in the morning. People grew stronger to protect what they loved. He had to do the same. 

"The pain of being human-"

He shook his head. 

He picked up the phone again. Nervously, he waited as the phone in Gloria's house rang. No answer. Dorian collapsed on the floor. For the first time in three days, he slept.


	3. Macabre Minuet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old sin is finally coming out of the woodwork, ravishing everything in its path. All actors on the stage perform acts of exquisite savagery. Who will take center stage? Jekyll, Sybil, Dorian, Gloria?  
> Or Bloody Mary?

Jekyll walked casually along the open cell doors. The real mayhem was going on on the prison's courtyard. The guards that hadn't been killed during the the break-out were now being held hostage. 

But Jekyll couldn't care less. He was looking for one specific cell. Ten minutes of walking in silence later, he found it. The door was closed, but Jekyll knew it wasn't locked. It had been closed again from the inside. 

As he opened the door he was greeted by an elbow to his throat, which he quickly avoided by leaning backwards. However, he was unable to dodge the kick to his ankles that followed, and threw him off his feet. 

A 7 feet tall figure emerged from the cell, lunging at him. The figure jumped on top of Jekyll and grabbed his throat, trying to squeeze it shut. He lovingly returned the favor. 

"Hello, Mary. It's been a long time."

The grip on his throat had already loosened, now being playful but still persistant at pinnig him down. 

"Jekyll... Honey... It's been about five years. Too long." Jekyll smirked at her sarcasm, though she saw only the expressionless white mask. 

He looked at her. Chestnut hair cut in a boyish fashion, fierce grey eyes and what seemed like a body of raw bone and muscles. The sleeves of her prison uniform were rolled up, accentuating her biceps. 

She let go of his throat and they both stood up, facing one another. "So Mary, were you waiting for me?"

"I guess I can't deny it", she answered, grinning. "I knew only you would be insane enough to release all of us Violets. As well as every other criminal by the way. But be honest Jekyll; you couldn't have done it for little old me?"

Jekyll sniggered. "Sorry to say, but no. The Red Guard is back in commission."

"Oh really? So you're amassing an army to fight them."

Together they walked towards the cellblock's exit. 

"To be honest Mary, I simply wanted to weigh out the power of the Red Guard. The Violets are the perfect form of countercurrent." 

He turned his head to look at her, while she simply looked at him sideways. She was expressionless, in anticipation so it seemed. "Mary, will you lead the armies of hell for me?"

In reaction, she smiled menacingly. She let out a giggle, which quickly devolved into cackling laughter. She grabbed him by the collar of his blouse and pulled him close, still smiling. 

"Yes! Absolutely, yes! Oh Jekyll, I've waited for so long." She let go with one hand and covered her eyes, mad with joy. "Finally, things are going to change." 

She kicked open the door to the courtyard, revealing the break of dawn shining a weak golden light on the prison walls. 

"Today, the sun rises over a new Layne. Revenge.. is finally within my grasp." She spoke softly now. She turned her gaze back to Jekyll. "And what about you? What are you gonna do?"

"I have my own matters I should attend to. I assume you don't need me to exercise your authority."

She put her hand on his head, patting the mask that served also as a helmet. "I guess not. But I am a little disappointed that you're still not looking to settle the score along with the rest of us."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. But there is nothing for me to settle. All is as it should be." 

With that, he walked off towards one of the watchtowers, usually occupied by the prison guards. 

"What are you going up there for?" Mary mumbled to herself. 

Then, she turned her attention to the hundreds of prisoners. There was fighting going on between them, and some of the Violets had already started killing the regular inmates. 

She shoved everyone aside and worked her way to the middle of the crowd. Then she yelled at the top of her lungs. 

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! ALL OF YOU!" 

They turned towards her. A crowd full of crooked smiles, grins, distrusting eyes. But all of them recognised her.  
The name "Bloody Mary" emerged from the crowd in whispers. She started to feel quite merry, back where she belonged. A leader, an icon. 

"Now listen up! All of you answer to me. If you disagree, you can get back into your pathetic little cell and wait for them to lock you back up. No? No one? Good. Now then, let's remind this city of the meaning of terror."

\----

Morning came at the Juvenile Asylum. Once a week, around this time, the patients were freed from their restraints to exercise. Erica had noticed, over the years, a strange distinction of certain patients. 

About half of them would just exercise normally, tracking field, football and such. The other half would do intensive training. Push-ups, long endurance rounds, some would even spar with one another. All of this with the discipline of a trained soldier. 

And, much to her dismay, it seemed that Sybil belonged to this group. She was practicing kicks on a black-haired boy who, in turn, dodged or blocked every strike. Erica checked her chart of patients. 

"Jack, last name unknown." 

Again, a missing last name. Suddenly, Erica got an idea. She began by marking all of the patients doing extreme exercise, then checked their names. 

"Johnny, last name unknown.  
Belle, last name unknown.  
Barry, last name unknown.  
Catherine, last name unknown..."

"No way", she whispered to herself.  
She quickly made her way back indoors to tell Stein about this. 

Jack and Sybil had traded roles. He dealt out punches, and she blocked and dodged each one. 

"Jack." Sybil spoke his name like it was an insult.

"Sybil." He grinned playfully. 

"Why did they let you out of your muzzle, ghoul boy?"

"I'm om a trial period for good behaviour. And you, Syb, are you still as tender as ever?"

"Shut up." She clenched her teeth and instinctively touched her right arm. Jack made use of this to strike her in the stomach with full force. 

He kicked her to the ground and got on top of her. She caught a whiff of his breath. Eventhough he'd been locked away for a long time, it was still a foul smell. 

He lifted up her sleeve and looked at the large, ugly scar on her right arm. He bit her, burrying his teeth deep into her flesh. She screamed and punched him in the face. He fell off of her, but this tore away some flesh from her arm, and now she was bleeding. 

They both got up and were ready to strike out at eachother, but they were quickly grabbed and restrained by two large men. Professor Blossom and Professor Stein came rushing outside. The men pushed Sybil and Jack towards them, asking what to do next.

Stein looked at both of them. A look of what seemed like pure disinterest. "Electroshock therapy. Bring both of them to the therapy room right now."

\----

The light of the morning sun forced it's way into the watchtowers of Abdon. Jekyll stood there, looking outside. The police was still surrounding the prison, unable to get inside. Jekyll sighed to himself. 

"Why can't we have nice things?"

"Well to start; you should stop ignoring me."

\----

Dorian rose from the floor of his room, having just woken up. He was disapointed in himself for collapsing, but it couldn't be helped. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his throat hurt. 

He decided to try and call Gloria again. This time she picked up, and he let out a breath of relief when he heard her voice. "Hello?"

"Gloria..."

"Dorian! Thank God, are you okay?"

"I'm... fine. Listen Gloria, I'm sorry about yesterday. I-" He took another breath. "I want to see you again. I need to see you."

"Uh, ofcourse. Do you want me to come over?"

"No, I'll have someone pick you up. See you soon."

"Dorian?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Throat hurts, need to stay in shape. Static noise is building, the room is starting to move around me. 

"I love you too." 

Release.

\----

Sybil tied to a chair, Jack sat next to her, also restrained. He was still smiling, the smug bastard. Hands, arms, legs and head were ket in place by their restraints.  
Bands were put around their foreheads, attached to wires that she couldn't trace back to a source. 

"Hey Syb, is this your first time with shock therapy?"

"..."

"Scared?"

She couldn't help but feel a rush of panic. "Shut up, ghoul boy."  
She saw Miss Erica and Professor Stein behind a glass window. Why was she letting this happen? Couldn't she see this was unfair?

"Stein, are you sure this is necessary?"

"This is how extreme mental illness is cured, Erica."

"But Sybil has been steadily improving."

"And now she's relapsed. And so we are helping her stay on the right track. Simple protocol."

He grabbed a button on the console in front of him, rotating it to the right. 

"Roughly 200 Volts."

Erica saw Sybil jolt up when the first shock hit her, her frantic movements held back by her restraints. She closed her eyes. 

Sybil felt her body momentarily go numb after the sharp pain went through her head. Every shock started at the top of her head and quickly made its way down, causing a painful sting deep inside the head, where one usually wouldn't feel anything. Her vision blacked out for a second, then returned as a blurry image of the room. 

This sensation was repeated ten times, then twenty, until she could no longer keep count. Who am I? Wolf? Big... Bad Wolf. Bad, bad wolf. Mean wolf. 

She looked to her side. Jack had bitten through his own lip and was bleeding from the mouth. He deserved this. But the realisation had struck her, that she too deserved this. 

For a while she'd believed that she could be a normal girl, and grow up to be a woman. She wanted to believe this. But she stopped being human ages ago. So had Jack, and so had many others here. 

Erica led a drooling, unresponsive girl back to her room. She looked forward, into nothingness. Stein had told her that she'd recover eventually, but seeing this empty shell of a person walking around on trembling legs was unbearable. 

"I'm sorry, Sybil. I should've protected you. I'm so sorry."

Sybil didn't respond. Erica's voice activated something inside her mind that allowed her to smile, although she couldn't make out the words. Even if she was a monster, even if this hell was to be her home, this person could love her. A genuine love. A mother's love. 

\----

"Alright, alright, alright!" Mary was smiling triumphantly, clapping her hands. She'd scavenged the prison and found a nice outfit. One of the guards had pants fit her nicely, and the Warden had a sweet green coat. It was a pity about all the blood on the collar, but oh well. 

"It's a big day, people. Are you all ready?" She didn't get the response she expected. Silence? She raised her eyebrows, as if to say "Well?". 

The crowd moved backward, while just a few stepped forward. They all positioned themselves behind one man. Mary knew him, as she knew almost all of the Violets. 

"Yes, Jason, what is it?"

"That's 'the Butcher' for you, Mary. Me and some of the guys have been thinking..."

"You have? What an accomplishment!" She cut him off, clapping sarcasticly. 

Jason frowned.  
"Anyways, we think that we shouldn't be led by a woman. We think that's best left up to someone like... me." He patted himself on the chest. "So just... step down, Mary."

She looked up at one of the watchtowers. Jekyll looked at her, pointed at Jason and then moved his finger across his throat. She shook her head slightly, he nodded "Okay".

"And why, Jason, would you be a better leader than me? Who agrees with you anyways?" 

Out of the many people right behind Jason, just a few had the courage to step forward and say "I do."

This still gave Jason the confidence he needed. "You may act like you're strong, but it's just a facade, isn't it?"

She stepped towards him. He pulled a knife on her. "Well, Jason, let's settle this then. If you think I'm weak, beat me one on one." She was cocky, spreading her arms, mockingly opening herself up to an attack.

He grinned, pointing his knife at her. "It wouldn't be the first time you were humiliated by a man, would it." The crowd seemed to inhale as he said it. 

A minor muscle spasm went across Mary's face. Her grin disappeared immediately, replaced by true and utter rabidity. 

Before he could react, she kicked the knife out of his hand. He was momentarily distraught, then he went for a jab to the throat. Mary ducked and punched him once in the stomach, hard. 

He didn't collapse. His body shot forward in pain, but he quickly regained control, and kicked her in the kneecap. The knife fell on the ground, having traveled into the air and back down during this time. 

Mary was out of balance, the leg Jason hit bent slightly out of shape. But Jason made the mistake of going right for the knife, meaning he flung himself to the side of her that still had a leg to stand on. 

Her right hand, made into a first, collided with his jaw at full force. He staggered back, spitting blood. The hit had forced his teeth deep into his tongue, so his mouth was filling up with the stuff.

Having grabbed Jason's knife, Mary kicked him to the ground. She stepped on his head, her face filled with hatred. "What was it you said about humiliation?"

"I gi- u-." There was too much blood in his mouth, so he could barely speak.

Mary, holding the knife to his throat, moved in closer. "What's that? I can't hear ya, Jason. Speak. The fuck. Up." 

Jason failed to finish a sentence, gurgling blood more than anything. 

"Oh I forgot", Mary said with a tone that had both anger and sadness in it. "Pigs don't talk." 

She cut open his throat, watching the blood gush out. Jason tried to scream, but only succeeded partially. 

Looking down at Jason's face, Mary's anger and hatred simply grew. Dirty pig, how dare you? You have no idea. No idea. She forced her fingers into his throat, through the gash she'd just made. 

This did end up driving Jason to scream at the top of his lungs.  
It only served to invigorate Mary, who screamed along with him, pulling at his head from the inside of his neck, until finally, it came loose. The screaming stopped, and Mary got up, soaked in blood, holding Jason's head in her hand. 

The ones who had stood with Jason moved quickly back into the crowd.  
Mary didn't say anything. The crowd dispursed, getting to their positions. 

\----

"How is he?" Gloria asked the chauffeur. 

He wouldn't answer. They drove up to the mansion, and Gloria stepped out of the car. As she approached the gate, she noticed a large group of people standing around it. Confused, she approached the other citizens.

"What's going on?"

One of the men turned to her. "Haven't you heard? Abdon Prison has been completely surrounded by the police."

"Oh. Yeah, I heard. But then, what are you doing here?"

"Well Mister Stitch is the Overseer, aint he? We want to know what's going on at Abdon. It's chaos over there, and they haven't told us nothin'."

"Wait, you don't know about-" She stopped. News of the Violets and the prison break-out would create mass hysteria. 

"About what?"

"Nothing, nothing. Listen, can you let me through? I've got an... appointment."

She tried to move forward, but the man moved in front of her, preventing her passage. "You have an appointment with Dorian Stitch?"

Others in the crowd of people turned around as well now, surrounding her.  
"Do you know more about this? About what's going on at Abdon?"

"No! Just let me through, I don't have time for this." She tried to forcably make her way to the metal gate. 

Someone grabbed her left wrist, pulling at her. To free herself, she tugged hard with her left arm. It worked, but as a result the woman that had grabbed her fell forward onto the concrete. 

In the silent confusion that followed, Gloria managed to open the gate and close it behind her.

The crowd got angry, shouting at her. A feeling of guilt came over her. She quickly made her way inside. The door close nog behind her echoed through the hallway. 

It was quite dark. Candles hanging along the walls that should be lit, weren't. But to Gloria, this house was familiar. The hallway that led from the main entrance to a threeway split; a stairway to the second floor, where Christopher Stitch's office had been, as well as all of their bedrooms. 

Gloria's bedroom had one broad window in it, and Dorian used to join her there to watch the sunset together. 

To the left of the stairway was the ballroom, where they practiced dancing. And to the right was the livingroom, where they'd first met. The distance between them at that time, when they were strangers, was frighteningly similar to what she felt right now. 

She entered the livingroom. It was empty. The table that had stood in the middle of the room, had been knocked over and the image painted on it had been damaged in the process. The sight brought her to tears. 

The ballroom was no better. It hadn't been cleaned up since the party, more than two weeks ago. She turned around and went upstairs. He was sure to be in his office.

\----

16 years ago

She's not dancing right. To the left, to the right. "Too quick." I mumble. 

She's startled, then she adjusts her movement. I want to be prouder of her than I am. Dad walks in.

"That's about enough, you two. Go play in the yard, yeah?" 

Gloria immediately runs to the back yard, ofcourse. "But... we're not done yet, father."

"Dorian, you've been at it for an hour. Go get some fresh air." Smiling, why is he always smiling? Why is father always this happy? Is he disappointed in me? Is he hiding it?

I walk outside without saying anything. I'm still thinking about my father. I've seen what he does. My father protects this city. And I just want to go through life being but his shadow. 

Gloria is looking at me. She's pretty, but so was Amelia. That didn't count for anything, in the end. 

"What do I have to do to make you smile?"

Why would I smile, Gloria? You're sweet, but I can't afford to love you. I can't afford to let you be my sister, or my friend. I can't... trust you. You're weak, like she was. 

The memory of Amelia leaves me with a strange sympathy for Gloria. One I haven't felt before. Maybe it's unfair of me to judge her like this. I look at the large weeping willow, and point towards it. 

"Climb that tree." She just looks at the tree, and back at me. Come on Gloria, I'm trying to give you a chance. "Climb to the top of that tree, and I'll smile for you."

Then, I suddenly see something in her eyes. Something I think I like. Determination. She walks towards the willow and begins to climb it. I walk up to the tree, watching her ascend, from branch to branch. 

Surely she'll fall soon. I'm cursing Amelia in my head. Why did you have to fade away from me? Weak, frail. That noise in my head is back, deafening. 

Then she's halfway there. She's giving me this look. Why is she so happy right now? And why do I suddenly want her to succeed? Before I know it, she's at the top. She's waving. I can't believe my eyes. This girl I'm looking at, these eyes that meet mine as equals. 

When she makes her way down, she falls. And for the first time, I'm afraid. I'm afraid Gloria will get hurt. I'm afraid to lose someone I love. I catch her. Relief washes over me, and the smile I was going to fake, is genuine.  
She hugs me. I'm shivering. 

\----

Gloria was right, he was in his office. The one that had once been his father's. 

They looked at eachother. A vast emptiness. No sweet smile, no warm hug, no indication that they had loved eachother for over ten years. Gloria collected air, as if confidence would accompany it.

"Dorian." Monotonely. 

"Gloria." Relieved. He swallowed. "I'm glad you're here."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"What?" Even now, he's preoccupied. 

"Dorian", she can't fight back the tears. "I don't want this anymore. What the hell are you doing?"

Now I have his full attention. Now that I'm crying in front of him.

"Gloria, what are you talking about? What's wrong." He walked towards her. 

She stepped back.

"What am I talking about? The Red Guard, you pushing me away for the hundreth time, what you did to the house... our house."

"How do you know about..."

"Shut up!" She was yelling at this point, her shoulders shaking. "Remember when you promised that we'd live here together? I'm sick of these empty promises, Dorian. I'm sick of coming to your house, only to find the door locked. I'm sick of your sudden disappearances. I am here for you, I always have been. And you-"

"Haven't?"

"Yes." She dried her tears, recomposing herself. 

Dorian walked towards her, and slowly wrapped his arms around her. She didn't move, her arms hanging beside her. He was taller than him, but she might very well have been stronger, had she not felt so numb. He rested his head on hers. 

"I'm sorry."

She clenched her fists, puching her arms outward. She didn't want to wrestle herself free, she just didn't want to be helpless in his arms.

"That's not enough. I want more than an apology or a vow. I've thought about this long and hard. You lead the Red Guard now, right?"

"Yes. I suppose Synthia told you about it."

"I'm joining them."

"What?"

"I want to join the Red Guard."

Dorian took a step back, holding her by the shoulders. "You can't be serious."  
But he knew she was. That determination had returned to her eyes. She grabbed his wrists. 

"You can choose, Dorian. Let me in, let me into your life. All of it." She came closer. "If you can give me that, then I'll gladly fight for what you believe in. But if you can't, then I have to give you up."

A long silence. Dorian had closed his eyes, and was breathing slowly, seemingly taking all of this in. When he spoke, he carefully thought over every word. 

"Gloria, I think that you're right. I think I need you to be closer to me as well. My situation has been... worsening. So", he held her face in between his hands. "let's save this city, together. 'Till death do us part."

They kissed. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Gloria felt as though the two of them were one. 

The phone rang. Dorian put it on speaker. "Movements at Abdon Prison. The gates are being opened from the inside."

"Stay where you are. Attack as soon as conflict starts." 

"Understood, sir." He hung up.

"It's Jekyll, isn't it? 'The Doctor'. Who is that man?" Gloria asked.

"He's the one who gave me this", Dorian answered, caressing the scar on his face. "We need to take him down, and fast. Same goes for all the other Violets."

Gloria nodded. 

\----

The gates of Abdon Prison had opened. Past the walls of Abdon, no prisoners were visible to the policemen.  
About a hundred of them had been gathered to surround the prison. A smaller portion of the moved towards the courtyard. 

Civilians had gathered on the parking lot outside the prison, wondering what was going on. 

When the policemen reached the open gates, they stopped. Mayor Valque had warned the officers' superiors of an ambush.  
Then one of the cops, those who were close to the gates, dropped to the ground. His pulse was quickly checked; dead. Bulletwound in the side of the head. 

Two more cops collapsed. The group dispursed, and one of them pointed to one of the left watchtowers. 

"They're shooting from there!" 

They fired back.  
A silhouette could be seen, moving around in the tower. The figure was still shooting back at them. 

The sound of a motorised vehicle suddenly grew from inside prison walls. Occupied with the person firing what seemed like a rifle from the guard tower, eleven police officers were run over by the prison-bus that came speeding through the open gates. Over a hundred came rushing out behind it, armed with pistols, taisers, shivs and other blades. 

Mary was driving the same bus that had brought here five years ago. She made contact with a police car, knocking it over and crushing several cops.  
Life had finally given her back her role in it. Only now, the amount of Violets she led was greater than ever before. Now let's see if I can draw out my former colleagues. 

She reached the parking lot. The people tried to run away in panic. They knew nothing of what was going on, and meant no harm in coming here. 

But no one was innocent. She ran over several civilians, blood splattering as high as the front window. 

Mary was laughing maniacally. She already saw them coming, from the faraway rooftops. The dark-red masks, the black and grey body armor and the acrobatic movements. 

They weren't quite there yet. She turned the bus around, having even more people splatter against the bumper in the process. Wether they were cops or civilians, friend or foe, she couldn't tell anymore. 

She ran the bus into the prison wall, jumping out at the last second. She'd aimed to be right under one specific guard tower. Jekyll came, jumping out of the tower, and landed on top of the bus, his rifle in hand. 

She turned towards him and yelled. "Thanks for the coverfire, wall flower." 

Jekyll nodded, then aimed at something behind her. When fired, she turned around to see him hit a police car in the gas tank. It promptly exploded, taking out several officers.

"What the- Explosive rounds? You have explosive rounds?"

Jekyll tossed her a pistol and ran. Someone shot her in the back. She shock forward, then turned around. To her, it moved in slow-motion. 

The cop that had shot her, she was wearing a bulletproof vest under her shirt, tried to reload his gun. She shot him in the face, the bullet shattering his teeth. Half a second later came another shot, through the forehead. She looked on, and marveled at the way his head exploded into little chunks of blood, muscle and bone. 

"You gave me explosive rounds as well? You beautiful son of a bitch!"

Jekyll was already gone. Not too far from her, a chaotic battle was raging. The initial surprise of some of the prisoners wearing bulletproof vests had faded, and officers were now aiming for the head. 

Mary ran into the pulsating mass of screaming lunatics and coppers. Shooting, punching, kicking, biting. She sustained injuries in her arms and legs, but it didn't bother her. She was moving too fast to be properly aimed at. Then, finally, the Red Guard came. 

Some set up sniping positions on the nearby rooftops, taking down prisoners one by one. Others rushed into the crowd themselves, simultaneously wielding guns and knives. 

Mary confronted one, shooting an explosive bullet at his head. It failed to pierce him, but blew off a chunk of his mask, the explosion stunning him. With one quick hand movement she grabbed his head and snapped his neck. 

In the waves of people, there was a clear distinction in combat prowess. Regular prisoners were violent, but uncoordinated, and the police showed attempts at a formation that was constantly broken.  
The Red Guard, however, moved in clear patterns, prioritising Violets in their attacks. 

Mary scoffed at the tactic, blowing apart a few cops. It was ancient, of another time. And there, right in the middle of the mayhem, not too far from Mary's position, was the man behind the operation.  
His red, helmet-like mask was exactly the same as any other one of them. So was his armor for that matter. 

Yet Mary knew it was him. Because of the simple fact that they were locked in eye contact from the moment their gazes met. 

A mutual understanding. Love and hatred flowing together to drive two bodies into the heat of war. 

"Edwin!"

"Mary."

They lunged at eachother. Edwin was faster, getting in the first blow. He stabbed at her heart, but Mary evaded fast enough for the blade to cut into her shoulder instead. She took this opportunity to knock the gun out of his other hand. 

Edwin stabbed again, aiming for the throat this time. She ducked, and gutpunched him. He was forced back.  
Multiple Red Guard agents rushed to his aid, but he ordered them not to interfere.

"Honor has always been your weakest point, Edwin. Useless integrity."

"You can't win this, Mary. Surrender now."

Mary laughed at his proposal. "You're a sweet guy, but foolish as hell."

"You're outnumbered, Mary. Surrender or die."

Her expression hardened. Her arm shot forward, grabbing Edwin by his throat and lifting him off the ground. No matter how fast he was, trying to block her grab, she was stronger. Much stronger. From the pocket of her coat she grabbed a small device with one single button on it. 

"Your strategy is outdated. Most of your forces are in the middle of the action, and never eject out of it. You want to lock us down and just keep killing until none of us are left standing. Did you really think I would have forgotten our own battle plans?"

She pushed the button. All around them, prisoners exploded, taking large numbers of both cops and agents with them. Only now Edwin noticed that most of the Violets had strategicly positioned themselves towards the very middle of the crowd; around Mary. 

Outside of this circle where mostly the Red Guard and Violets resided, bomb after bomb strapped to the bodies of regular prisoners exploded. Gaps were created in the mass of people.

Now the Violets bolted through these newly created passage ways. They climbed onto the rooftops by the dozens, piling onto the Red Guard agents and killing them.  
Edwin tried to wring himself loose from Mary's grasp, but she instead threw him aside and started running out of the crowd as well. 

The Red Guard agents tried to stop her, but while Mary shot at them with explosive bullets, the Violets had taken over the sniping positions and so they too provided her with coverfire. 

When she'd reached the rooftops, she looked back down at Edwin. He stood amidst a space full of dead Violets, Red Guard, police officers and prisoners. Some shot, some stabbed and some blown to bits.  
The remaining agents gathered around him. They pointed their guns at her, the Violets with rifles took aim in turn. A stand-off of sorts.

"This was your one chance to fight us head on, Edwin", Mary called out mockingly. 

Most of her Violets were running away from the prison, across the rooftops, scattering throughout Layne. 

"I hate to say it, but you botched it. Tell the citizens of Layne that because of you, they can't sleep soundly tonight." 

Then she turned her back on him. She knew those words would burn in his very soul, or at least she hoped so. She ran along with a group of Violets, from rooftop to rooftop. She would make this disgusting city squeal.

\----

20 years ago

"Ed, I'm really not sure about this."

Edwin and Mary had just left the orphanage, along with twenty eight other children. Mayor Grimm himself had come to select them.  
They stepped into the back of a large bus, the windows darkened for reasons unknown to them. 

Edwin grabbed her hand and squeezed it. 

"It's okay, I'm here." 

He whispered. He was four years older than her; 16. His birthday was last month, on a thursday. Mary decided to use this to change the subject. 

"So you still haven't drank since you turned sixteen? All the other boys have done it y'know."

They'd sat down, and the bus was beginning to drive away. They'd been told they would receive better beds and food, and the guarantee of a home for the rest of their lives, something the orphanage couldn't offer them. 

"I don't like the way those boys get when they drink. I don't want to be like that. Seeing them, like that, makes me feel sad somehow." 

Mary focused on Edwin's speech. It was calming. The conviction in his ramblings could enthrall her, enough to listen to it for fifteen uninterrupted minutes. After that, Mary would inevitably drift off into her own fantasies. 

These fantasies had perservered throughout her growth. They were surreal and lighthearted, playfully bending the laws of physics and the basic understandings of how for instance a house was built. 

Every small building became a pillar that reached beyond the clouds. They passed Abdon Prison. It was barely visable because of the combination of the darkened windows and the dark stone the prison was made up of. Mary had it ripped from the ground, fundations and all. 

When the bus stopped, she was roughly thrown back into reality. The city block they had parked in was completely abandoned. 

They stepped out of the bus, and Mary looked for a street sign. There was one, next to the sidewalk, on the other side of the street. Faust Street. They were led into one of the buildings. It was made up of brown bricks and grey concrete. Faust Street 54. 

Inside the building, a long stairwell led to a huge underground base. Multiple large sleeping rooms with a dozen beds in each room, training rooms, shooting ranges. Mayor Grimm wasn't around. 

They were being led by men in uniform. They were no police officers; their uniforms weren't blue, they were grey and inconspicuous, like they wanted to be noticed as little as possible.

One of the women in uniform pointed them towards a large training room that had all the training dummies, weaponry and weights cleared out to make room for a row of youths standing at attention. Their apparent ages ranged from sixteen to twenty years old, but one boy looked particularly young. His appearance drew a lot of attention from the group of orphans, including Mary. 

His hairs were so light blonde they were white, his skin was pale, his eyes red and slightly too far apart. He looked sickly; sunken cheeks and bags under his eyes. Yet he seemed to be the only one who was smiling. 

One of the oldest boys stepped forward and spoke in a formal manner. He was about 18. 

"Welcome. I presume you are all orphans, who have taken up the Mayors offer for a better life. This life does not come without a price, however.  
You have been selected based on your mental and physical state to join a top-secret government project. You will be trained to be highly skilled agents, keeping this city safe in service of the law. This means", he paused, phrasing himself very carefully. 

"It means that you will be allowed to kill, as long as you kill only those that have become a danger to the safety of Layne." He paused once again, letting the group of children take in the information. 

He turned to the albino child.

"Jekyll, would you like to tell them the rest?"

The boy nodded and stepped forward. 

"You, like us, will be known as the Red Guard. But people who step out of line, and kill innocent people, will be called Violets. Violets are not welcome with us, and will be arrested and sent to jail."

He smiled. 

"Though if you fight back, we can kill you." The innocent smile on his face as he said this was disturbing. He repeated: "If you're a Violet, we're allowed to kill you."

The children were dead silent. Mary looked to her side, at Edwin. He looked back. She wanted to ask him:  
"Did you know about this? Why do you look so calm?"

He pinched her arm. The look he gave her, serious but compassionate, wanted to tell her that she shouldn't worry. He pulled her close, whispering to her. "It'll be okay. I promise."

Mary sighed. Her shoulders lowered. He was her brother, she believed him. Perhaps it was against her better judgement, but she believed him nonetheless. 

That evening, they were told to go to bed early. They had to be well rested, since their training would start the next morning. Mary and Edwin slept in the same room, along with ten others. 

Mary slept next to the boy from before; Jekyll. She was still sitting on the bed, while Edwin had already gone to sleep. She was having a very strange conversation with Jekyll. It was strange in that neither of them actually talked. They were just looking at eachother, trying to learn what the other was thinking or feeling.

Mary grinned at him, he smiled sheepishly. When she only looked at him from the side, he opened his red eyes wide. 

His eyes were big. More than with anyone else's eyes, one felt observed when they looked at you. But when Mary turned to face Jekyll, he looked away shily, but still smiling. It was an amusing little game. 

The next morning they were harshly pulled out of their beds. They had exactly fifteen minutes to eat breakfast. The rest of the morning they were taught a training routine, which they would repeat every day. 

Edwin and Mary were told to spar with one another. "I don't want to hit my sister", Edwin protested. 

"If she dies well, you won't hit her at all", their instructor sneered.

Edwin tried to strike Mary. He missed. 

"You idiot, she didn't even move!"

The instructor struck him with the palm of his hand. The sound echoed through the room, like a rock hitting a metal pipe. 

Mary's eyes widened. She could feel her heart pounding in her head. The blood running through her arms turned into burning acid. "You bastard!" 

Mary jumped forward and punched him in the gut. The man barely flinched, but didn't seem angered.  
He was enthusiastic, in fact. 

"Good! Jekyll, get over here. You're sparring with Mary here."

Still intoxicated with anger, she struck out at Jekyll. The callous smile on his face did nothing to arouse sympathy. He dodged most of the punches, but was forced to block some. These succesful hits staggered him, which was satisfying.

Mary felt strange. She felt powerful. The air bent itself around her fists as they shot forward. Her intire vision was abstructed by a thick fog, except for Jekyll. But it could've been anyone in his place.

Their sparring session went on for fifty minutes, until Mary was too tired to move. The energy she had felt in her arms, as well as in her entire body, had left. It left her arms hanging like dead animals. She wobbled as though she was standing on matchsticks instead of legs. 

Jekyll was hunched over, panting like a dog. "Are you happy now? I'm all tuckered out", He managed to squeeze out of his throat in between hoarse breaths. 

"Yeah, my only regret", Mary paused to breathe. "is that you're still smiling."

Jekyll grinned, playful and cheeky like a hyena. 

The day went by quickly after that. Routine combat training: learning fighting stances, choke holds, the vulnerable parts of the human body. By the evening they were dismissed.  
They were all given their dinner in one big dining room.

Like everywhere else in this underground facility, the light had a blue gleam to it, as if this place where they lived was only a dream. 

Mary, throughout the following days, came to notice more and more oddities. It wasn't just the light that was just slightly off, she found even the cracks in the walls or the squeaking of her bed to be otherworldly. 

She brought it up with Edward during dinner, and he agreed that this place felt strange. 

"What I feel when walking around here isn't quite nousea or lightheadedness, rather it's always on the verge of that. Maybe we just need to get used to this place. We've only been here for a day after all." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

"You're right. We should give the Red Guard a chance. They've treated us well so far." Mary wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Edwin frowned disapprovingly.

That same night, she dreamed of the Red Guard, and of Edwin. They were on their first mission, which brought them back to their old orphanage. 

They both put on one of the red masks that had been shown to them recently. Mary's was now seeing through two eye-holes, but she also saw some of the inside of the helmet, like she was peering through holes in a wall. 

The kids that they had left behind in the orphanage welcomed them with open arms. They smiled, asking if they wanted to play tag. Mary followed them to the yard, running after one of the other girls. Rosie, a cheerful girl with cheeks like red apples, pearly white but crooked teeth. Rosie tripped and Mary caught up with her, poking her back. 

"You're it!" Her own voice sounded like it was in an echochamber.

But Rosie wouldn't move, no matter how long she waited. "Rosie? Rosie wake up! Let's get back inside. Rosie?!"

Mary shot up, her face was on fire, making her sweat feel icy cold on her forehead. Blinking, she could make out the contours of her bed. She looked around, the whole room was bathed in a lake of shadows, the beds of the sleeping children like rafts on the black water. 

When she turned her attention to the bed next to hers, where Jekyll slept, she noticed that he wasn't there. Further away, perhaps in another room, she heard a door close. She got out of her bed and snuck out the room.

Mary turned left. The door handle just shot back into place. Trying to avoid making the wooden floor squeak, she walked to the door. When she opened it, she realised that this was the door that led out of the basement. She looked up, seeing someone just reach the ground floor. She rushed up the stairs, skipping several steps. 

The front door closed as soon as Mary reached the top of the stairs. She rushed out the door, and bumped into Jekyll. They both fell onto the street. Luckily, it was late, and cars never drove here. 

"What are you doing here?" Mary lay on top of Jekyll, their faces a little too close for her liking. 

Apparently Jekyll thought the same, since he quickly pushed her off of him. Even with only the feeble light of a street lantern, she could see he was blushing.  
He opened his mouth, but failed to form a proper sentence. He halted his stuttering and simply pointed to the roof of Faust Street 54. 

"You want to climb onto the roof?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Jekyll spontaneously summoned a familiar grin onto his face. "Come with me, and I'll show you, m'lady."

Mary raised an eyebrow, wanting to object to the term "m'lady". But before she could do so, Jekyll had already grabbed onto a drainpipe and was halfway up the side of the building. She swiftly followed him. She shivered, only now noticing that she was wearing only her pyjamas, in the middle of the night.

Mary and Jekyll sat on the roof of the abandoned house, the night lit with stars so dim and far away that they could only be seen by virtue of the lack of clouds in the air. 

But the moon was bright and full, outshining the stars like the one man in a play who could actually sing. And sing he did. 

"It's pretty out here" Mary said, breathing the last few words more than speaking them, as she shivered from the cold.

"Beautiful, right?"

"No, just pretty."

"Oh. Well, I think the moon is wonderful tonight."

"Why do you like the moon so much?"

"Well, there's a story behind it."

Mary turned her head to him in anticipation. Jekyll just stared at the moon, silently. 

"Jekyll?"

"Uhuh?" He still wouldn't turn his head.

"Aren't you going to tell me the story?"

He looked at her, wide-eyed like a newborn. His red eyes were headlights, and it could be assumed that anyone who they looked upon unfavorably, would be like a rabbit in the middle of the road. 

"You mean you want to hear it?"

"Sure. Why does that surprise you?"

"No one has ever really cared", Jekyll looked down at his knees. "I mean, as nice as people can be, I don't think they see me as one of them. I guess they're right."

"Stop that, you're making me sad."

"I'm sorry."

Mary sighed. "Don't be." 

She scooched over closer to him and grabbed his wrist. "Now stop acting like an idiot and tell me your story."

Mary didn't want to look him in the eyes right now, but she was sure he was blushing. She realised that this might be just what Jekyll needed right now. 

She dabbled in the thought that right now, she was important to Jekyll. It made her feel important, influential, even kind of powerful.  
A few days ago, none of her punches could hurt him. Now he was more vulnerable than ever.

Jekyll started. "I don't know how I was born. I don't know my parents. All I know is that I was found in front of an orphanage one day, wrapped in a dirty blanket. I was pale, small, but alive. In fact: I was healthy. The caretakers told me that I was found late at night, under the light of the full moon. Since then, there's one thing I've always known." He paused, and looked Mary right in the eyes. His eyes were bright, in romantic musing. 

"I'm like the moon. I'm pale, and I stand alone, even in the greatest crowd of shining stars. My light may be bleak, but it's constant and strong."

Mary squeezed his wrist. "I was worried that you didn't like yourself just now."

"I just want to have a purpose."

"And do you?"

"Sure I do. The Red Guard, protecting this city and- Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything."

"N-no not you, him."

"Who is 'him'?"

Jekyll was angry, seemingly in dialog with himself. Finally, she sighed. "Fine."

"Jekyll, are you alright?"

"Uh... Yes, yes. My apologies. I think it's about time we go back to bed."

"Yeah... sure."

Right as Mary was about to descend down the side of the roof, Jekyll grabbed her by the arm.  
He looked at her, with those wide open eyes. Two big rubies on a white cushen. It was like she was going to get sucked into that crimson gaze of his.

"I like you Mary. I really do."

"Oh... thanks. You're nice too." 

"You believe me, right? That I like you? That I wouldn't hurt you? Right?"

"Ofcourse." She smiled, less genuine than she would've liked, and pulled her wrist loose.

She didn't have the same nightmare again that night. She dreamt of the moon, and of why the stars were so insignificant. 

\----

"Wrights killed himself. He just... shot himself."

Dorian leaned on his desk, sweating. His expression wasn't one of horror, but of repressed sorrow and rage. His face was a stone mask, but it showed cracks around his eyes. 

"You did this." He looked over to Jekyll, who was tied to a chair in his office. 

Jekyll remained unmoved in his chair. "That's a nice suit. Black, with a red tie. Stylish."

Dorian rubbed the exhaustion eyes. No, it's my fault, my fault. The vision of his father, then his mother crossed his mind. That goddamned smile was always a lie.

"Jekyll, I have an offer for you."

"Oh?"

Dorian looked him sternly in the eyes. "Rejoin the Red Guard, and you'll go unpunished."

Jekyll laughed. It gradually rose from a dark bass to a highpitched, mocking giggle. "No."

"What? Why not? They'll have you executed." He grabbed Jekyll's shoulders. "Don't you want to serve a purpose?"

"Why would I?" Jekyll spoke coolly. "There is no such thing as purpose."

"Bullshit. The protection of this city is the highest purpose. I'm offering you that, along with your freedom. How can you decline?"

"You have", Jekyll's voice trembled. "much to learn." 

"How so?" 

Jekyll had succeeded at getting Dorian to focus fully on his words. 

"You're human, as human as one can be. But you have no idea how to be complete, how to make your life whole. And you want to know, desperately. The pain of being human shows in everything you do, but you can never ease it."

"Lia-"

Suddenly, Jekyll broke free from the bonds that held his arms behind his back. In his right hand was a small knife. He quickly cut away the rope that tied his legs to the chair. Meanwhile, Dorian bolted to his desk to grab a gun from the drawer. 

He turned around and took a shot. Jekyll dodged it effortlessly, then he lunged forward and slashed at Dorian's throat. 

Dorian ducked, but the knife still cut into his face. He screamed, stumbling sideways and grabbing his left cheek like a wounded animal. Jekyll took this opportunity to dive out the window. 

"NO!" Dorian screeched in desperation.

He dissapeared into the dusk of the early evening, his shadow barely visable against an orange sun.

\----

Present day

"We're all ready, Mary."

"Good job, Quint. Anything else?"

"We retreaved your mask. I wasn't sure if you wanted it though."

Hal handed her a green mask with a broad, sharp-toothed smile painted onto it. She crushed it between her hands. It crunched and shattered like thin glass. Rusted steel. 

"I don't need it. I want to show this city exactly what it's wrought. Quint, we're going in. You stick with me."

"Got it. Lead the way."

"Your face is far too friendly for this crowd. Try and catch some scars, yeah?"

"I'll try my best." He grinned. 

Mary inhaled through her nose, letting the air escape through her mouth, her teeth clenched. 

"Layne Juvenile Asylum, huh? Heh, it's a lot like home."


End file.
